


The Night The Lights Went Out

by tisfan



Series: Imagine Clint and Coulson prompts [8]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, Love Confessions, M/M, Sign Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-29 23:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11451297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: When the lights go out... anything can happen...





	The Night The Lights Went Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Politzania](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politzania/gifts).



> Clint and Phil are on an op and get trapped somewhere dark, very dark. On top of that, either a) Clint's hearing aids are on the fritz or b) they have to be very quiet (bad guys will overhear etc). Therefore - fingerspelling as only method of communication (aka Helen Keller) Accidental (or on purpose) declaration of love ensues, with potential of smut. Have fun!

The lights went out. The lift skittered down another fifty or so feet and then stopped moving.

“Aw, elevator, no,” Clint said. Or he thought he said. He could tell he was talking, but he couldn’t hear himself-- shit, shit, shit.

It was utter, complete blackness. No emergency lights came on. Clint waited for his eyes to adjust but if they did, he couldn’t tell. Literally, could not see his hand in front of his face.

And there was utter silence.

Clint fumbled for his phone inside the zippered thigh pocket on his armor. His fingers brushed the device, but not even the little green light that told him he had a waiting voicemail was lit. (He always had waiting voicemail. Dumb ass people kept leaving him voice mails, even though his lead in told them to fucking text him.)

He thumbed the button anyway, but nothing happened. The phone was dead. Bricked.

“Well, this looks bad,” Clint said. Hopefully Coulson could hear him, because if Coulson was talking, Clint wasn’t going to be hearing _him_. “Did we get hit with an EMP? I’m dead in the water, Coulson. Can’t see, can’t hear, can’t…” Clint closed his mouth so fast that he nearly bit off his tongue. He couldn’t hear himself, but he could tell his voice was spiraling up in a panic.

One arm in front of him, he felt his way to the edge of the lift and slid down to the floor, getting his back into the corner. He probably wasn’t safer that way; he was blind and deaf, and if there was a more helpless combination, Clint didn’t know what it was. But he felt safer with his back to the wall.

Utter blackness.

Utter silence.

There was no way to tell the time except to count his own breaths, and even that was suspect. He knew that he had already lost control enough that he was panting, chest aching for air.

No way to know how long it was until he felt a warm hand touch his leg in an exploratory grope. He recoiled from that touch, shivering, but the hand reached for him again. Probably Coulson.

Probably.

The person -- probably-Coulson -- found Clint’s hand in the darkness and tucked his hand inside. Squeezed, then unlaced their fingers. He moved his hand a few times and then presented kept it still.

What the hell? Probably-Coulson’s hand was held rigid, unnaturally. Clint tried to twine their fingers together again, for comfort. Probably-Coulson shook his hand free and then laid it inside Clint’s palm in that same unnatural position.

“If you’re trying to tell me something, I ain’t figurin’ it out, Coulson,” Clint said. “You know I ain’t that smart--”

Probably-Coulson’s hand closed, pinching two fingers against his thumb. _No_. Clint’s brain provided suddenly.

“No?”

Probably-Coulson’s hand moved again, closed a fist and bobbed it. _Yes._

Are you-- “Are you… Helen Kellering me?”

_Yes._

“That is an inefficient way to communicate, Agent Coulson,” Clint said.

_Thumbs up. Zero._

“Better than nothing?” Clint guessed.

_Yes._

“What happened?”

  1. _M. P._



“Killed my hearing aids.”

It was not the hardest thing he’d ever done, but it was not easy, either. The subtle feel of Coulson’s hand against his palm, tracing the angles of his skin and the way his fingers were held, visualizing what he felt. And they were limited by movements; Coulson was mostly spelling things out one letter at a time.

_OK?_

“Fucking no. I ain’t okay,” Clint said. “Do I even look okay?”

_No see you. Hurt?_

“I’m not hurt,” Clint said. That much was true, even if it was something he said a lot even when it was a lie.

_Benefit. Doubt. You._

“You’re giving me the benefit of the doubt? That’s nice of you,” Clint said. This had to be the weirdest conversation he’d ever had. “You got any idea of how they’re gonna get us out of here?”

_U guess. Mine. good._

“Yeah, this sucks.”

Coulson went still for a long moment, then, _Safe._

“Yeah, I know we’re safe,” Clint said. “You’re with me, after all.”

_Do my best._

Technically, they probably weren’t safe. As far as Clint knew, the elevator was halfway down an impossible mine-shaft, headed for a top secret SHIELD base that had been compromised in the Hydra take-down. No one knew what was in there, the records had been sealed and even Agent Romanoff’s internet dump hadn’t given them anything to go on. There could have been anything down there. There could be anything down there that was now loose. There was no way to know who’d triggered the EMP, or what their intentions were.

But Coulson was there, at Clint’s side. Holding his hand. Keeping him calm while Clint’s brain tried to rattle is way out of the cage of deaf and blindness.

Clint leaned against Coulson, let the other man wrap an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in close, keeping one hand inside the hollow of Clint’s hand, just talking, spelling things out.

Coulson’s fingers brushed through Clint’s hair, the short fuzz at the back of his neck, sending shivers down Clint’s spine. Eventually, Clint found himself with his head in Coulson’s lap, being petted like a puppy, their hands still together while Coulson “talked” and Clint answered from time to time.

_Still here._

_I got you._

_OK_

_Take care of you._

_Always._

Clint stopped answering after a while, not quite sleeping, but close. Maybe Coulson thought he’d drifted off. The letters didn’t stop, but Clint’s comprehension was for crap. He caught a few letters, a word here and there. It was comforting. Like being sung to sleep.

Coulson’s free hand drifted from Clint’s hair to his side, resting against his hip.

_Looking out for you._

_Best_

_Smart and strong and handsome_

_Agent_

_Proud of you_

_Ove you._

_I got you._

“Wait, what?” Clint blinked, even though there was still no light. He sat up suddenly, losing both of Coulson’s hands, and he groped blindly for them. When he found Coulson’s fingers again, he brought one of his hands, shaking, to his mouth, dropping a kiss against the back of Coulson’s hand, terrified of losing him in the darkness.

_You ok?_

“Fell asleep, I think.”

_I got you._

“I got that part. What… what did you say before that?”

 _Nothing_.

“Not nothing.”

_Not important._

“Let me be the judge of that.”

 _Clint_.

“Phil.” Clint brought the hand up to his mouth again. “We are as alone as we ever are. It’s dark and I can’t hear you anyway. This is as close to hell as I ever want to be. Please. What did you say?”

Phil’s hand was still for a long, long moment, then he moved. _Love you._

Clint nodded, slow, feeling Phil’s warm hand under his cheek. “You didn’t mean to say that, did you?”

 _No_.

“Is it true?”

 _Yes_.

Even in the utter darkness, utter silence, Clint closed his eyes against the surge of emotion that flooded him.

Even in the utter darkness, Clint knew exactly what Phil looked like. How he must be sitting. Unerring, Clint reached for, and found, Phil’s jaw and drew him in until their breath mingled, until the air between them simmered. “I’m glad you told me,” Clint said. Phil’s lips were less than a finger’s breadth away from his, he could taste the vibrations in the air even if he had no idea what Phil said.

_Not kiss u._

“Yeah, you are,” Clint said, a smile painting his mouth for just a moment. “We can talk about it later, but right now, you’re going to kiss me.”

The kiss was tentative and slow. Searching and learning. Phil’s mouth brushed Clint’s in the tiniest nudge, lips dry and mouth closed. Clint darted out his tongue and sampled the flavor of Phil’s lower lip. His hand came down on Phil’s shoulder, fingers curling, pulling them closer.

“Come on, come on,” Clint said, the tease of his mouth against Phil’s was unbearable. “Wanted you for ages, an’ you never said anything. You can’t take it back now, please, come on--”

Phil’s mouth shifted, and then Clint was being devoured.

Phil pushed him down to the floor, his body covering Clint’s like a blanket and… _well, hello Agent Coulson, is that a gun in your pocket?_

“Yes…”

Utter darkness.

Utter silence.

Phil’s mouth on him was the only thing Clint could feel, the only important thing in the entire galaxy. His mouth molded to Clint’s lips, stole his breath. Tasted and teased, his tongue sliding in and against the inner edge of Clint’s lip.

Clint was wriggling under Phil, no matter where he moved, there Phil was, all hard, lean muscle and strong arms and soft, yielding mouth. Clint knew Phil’s strength, how he could break a man with a single move, and yet he held Clint with eager arms, not gentle, but giving Clint more and more, as much as he wanted. Clint’s hands were on Phil’s shoulders, pulling him closer, running his hands down Phil’s back, wishing they weren’t in fucking tactical armor because there was no way in hell he was going to be able to get out of the damn armor in the dark, much less back in it before someone either attacked them or rescued them, whichever it was.

Phil was stealing his air, making him dizzy, forcing Clint to hold on tighter. They wriggled together, friction almost painful through the mesh pants. Clint matched Phil’s movements, tongue and teeth and lip, refusing to be passive under Phil’s passion, wanting it just as much, wanting Phil to know.

Vibrations against his throat as Phil kissed Clint’s neck. Phil was moaning, and oh, sweet god, Clint would have killed to be able to hear it. Clint found himself rutting up against Phil’s body, not getting any relief, just driving the fire higher.

“Want.” Clint managed to say. “Want you.”

The kiss ended just as gentle as it began. Phil nipped once, gently, tugging Clint’s lower lip, then released him. Pressed his mouth against Clint’s lips once more. Phil sat back, slow, his chest heaving and Clint waited before hauling himself back into a seated position, reaching for Phil’s hands.

_Want you too. Not time._

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Clint said. He disentangled one hand to press against his aching groin. “But we’re gonna talk about this. Later.”

_Later._

“Love you.”

_Nice to hear._

“Yeah, it’ll be nice for me to actually hear it, later,” Clint agreed. “Mission brief, after.”

 _Promise_.

 


End file.
